Survival Instinct
by captainstrange
Summary: He wanted to protect her. She wanted to save him. Together, they could defeat the odds. But with the dead rising, and several enemies popping up, the odds change. Can they defeat the new ones? Daryl/OFC (Slow-burn)(Kinda)(Not really sure) [Season 1 Start]
1. Chapter 1: Hell Breaks Loose

**Survival Instinct**

 **Chapter One:** **Hell Breaks Loose**

She stared at the scene in front of her, eyes wide with shock. Her neighbor, a kind elderly man, was devouring his wife on her front lawn. That same neighbor was slowly getting to his feet, and making his way over to where she was stood. But nothing in her brain was working, nothing was making her legs move. She couldn't run. Instead, she stood stuck there with her eyes wide as she awaited certain death. Then he dropped to the ground, with a bolt sticking out of his head. Her mouth parted open, and she looked at where the bolt had come from. At the sidewalk was parked the Dixon brothers, in their respective vehicles. The older on his motorbike, the younger in his beat-up truck.

"Yer alright?" the older one called, climbing off the death-trap and making his way over to the female he had just saved. "Hey, Earth to Tristan!" He snapped his fingers impatiently in front of her face. "Yer been bit?"

She shook her head once, her eyes moving to meet his. "Nah, he didn't get close enough." She narrowed her green eyes, at the bolt before going to retrieve it. The female gave one hard yank on it, as it slid from the corpse of her neighbor before passing it off to the younger brother who had approached them. "Ya seen my dad?"

"Unfortunately," Merle replied, a soft growl escaping his lips.

"Ya take him down?" Tristan replied, her nose twitching at the thought of her father walking around as one of those things.

"'Course, girlie," Merle assured her, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. "Not everyones dad was like yours, Tris. Gave him exactly what he would have wanted."

A small smile tugged at Tristan's lips, before she guided the brothers inside her tiny house. She made her way into her bedroom, pulling out her backpack from her closet and began shoving clothes inside. Merle was stood in the doorway, watching her with his piercing eyes. Daryl, the younger brother, was stood in the living room, keeping guard of the house while Tristan packed up everything she needed.

The female had known the brothers since school, seeing as she was in the same year as Daryl. They had both taken a liking to her, when she stood up for the younger Dixon about a situation with another student - the teacher instantly took the side of the student who had struck Daryl first. Tristan had stuck by him since then, helping each other out of sticky situations. Merle had been grateful to have someone to look out for Daryl, when he was doing stints in juvie. Plus, Tristan and Merle had similar personalities - when the latter wasn't getting high - so they bonded over that too.

"C'mon, girlie, gotta get going."

She looked up at him, and gave one simple nod as she moved to the bathroom, "You take my other bag and go fill it up with anything from the kitchen. I won't be living off of ya shit from your cupboards - moldy ass shit."

Merle chuckled, grabbing the other bag and doing as he was told, while the female grabbed her toiletries.

Once they had gathered anything necessary, the trio moved out to the vehicles and put the two bags in the back of Daryl's truck. Tristan paused in her movements, as she looked at her bags and then her house.

"What's the matter now?" Merle grumbled, climbing onto his bike.

"Did you grab my gun?"

"Grabbed it all for ya, when you were getting your clothes," Daryl told her, pushing her towards the passenger door. She nodded, and climbed into his truck.

The brothers exchanged words, before Daryl was getting into the truck too. And then they were off, onto a journey that was going to be filled with blood, gore and horror. But none of them would go down without a fight, it wasn't the way they were taught. And as Tristan looked out of the window, at the streets they were passing with people running around in panic, she smiled to herself. Because she was in the best goddamn company on the planet. _They wouldn't let her die._


	2. Chapter 2: Atlanta Fell

**Survival Instinct**

 **Chapter 2:** **Atlanta Fell**

* * *

Tristan glared at him, as he slammed on the brakes and she lurched forward. He sent her a small smile in apology, before leaning out of the window to shout at his older brother. She chuckled at their antics, as the brother sent them his middle finger in reply as he climbed off his bike. He approached the truck, his eyes darting around.

"Let's hole up there for the night," he told them, as he stood on Daryl's side of the truck. He pointed at the house behind him, with a nod. Daryl grunted in response, and got out, grabbing his crossbow from the truck bed.

"We'll clear it out, then come back for ya," Daryl said, looking at Tristan, before following his brother to the house.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. They had been on the road for a few days now, and most areas they came across were wrecked. Completely destroyed by the world collapsing around them. But the Dixon brothers hadn't allowed her to assist them in anyway. If they raided a place, it was both of them. If they were clearing a place out for the night, it was both of them. Basically, anything dangerous - the brothers were doing it. Instead, they had her sort out food. Basically, they had been slung back a few centuries. Why hadn't she received the memo?

The truck door opened, and Daryl's face popped in as he grabbed his backpack. Their eyes met, and he gave her one nod before going to the truck bed. Tristan followed, getting out and grabbing her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and then grabbed the food bag before following the brother inside. Merle was in the process of locking all the windows and doors, and Daryl was moving around him to get the curtains set up. The dead were attracted to light, sound and smell. Which didn't work well in their favor, honestly. Tristan set down the two bags and started going through their inventory for food.

"We have enough to get us through maybe three more days," she informed the men, looking up at them. "If Merle stops helping himself, maybe four."

"We will go on another run soon," Daryl nodded, putting his crossbow on the coffee table. All the windows were covered, and a lantern was turned on in the corner giving the room a yellow glow.

Tristan huffed, nodding before handing over the 'meal' to them. Granola bar, beef jerky and a piece of fruit. Daryl had an apple, Merle a banana and Tristan an orange.

"I'll take first watch tonight, lil brother," Merle informed, sitting on the couch near the big window as he tucked into his meal. He had chosen to ignore Tristan's earlier comment about him helping himself.

And that was the last of the conversation for the night. Each of them ate their meals, and Merle sat on watch. Daryl got the sleeping bags sorted, so Merle was closest to the front door, with himself next to the coffee table. Tristan was going to be set up against the wall, where the TV once stood. They had moved that into the kitchen, as they weren't going to be using that area and the living room was small anyway. Tristan had packed away all the food and had removed her weapons from their holsters and sheaths. She had tucked a knife beneath her pillow, and every night she fell asleep with her hand resting on the weapon, and would wake up every morning with her hand in the same place. It wasn't long before they all settled in for the night.

* * *

It was days after they found the house, and they were currently holed up in an old motel. The brothers were currently outside, at Daryl's truck, organizing the route to Atlanta. Tristan was sat on the bed, fiddling with her machete as she gently rocked her legs while she waited. The brothers were still hell-bent on protecting her, and not allowing her to help with anything except food. They had stopped at a house, and a small group of dead had appeared overnight. Merle had cursed like a sailor when Daryl woke him up, and they had spent ages working up a route to get back to their vehicles. The Dixon's had cleared a path, for Tristan to run to the truck with the two bags she could carry. Daryl had the third, and Merle was carrying the last two.

From where she was sat, Tristan heard a growl come from the open doorway. The young female whipped around, moving to stand as she came face to face with an undead. Her eyes went wide, as she raised the machete at the advancing monster. It's arms reached out to grab her, it's jaw hanging open, ready to taste her flesh. Tristan let out a small grunt as she swung the machete into the creature's neck, with her free hand pushing back on it's chest. She swung again and the head rolled off it's shoulders and onto the floor, the body falling in a heap at her feet. Her outfit and skin was splattered with blood, as she drove her smaller knife into the skull of the dead and grabbed the last remaining bag, before going out to meet the brothers with a slightly pissed off look.

"What happened?" the younger brother asked, his eyes wide as he took in her appearance.

"Next time you vow to protect me or some bullshit, make sure ya do. I was almost dead meat," she huffed, grabbing a dirty rag and cleaning up her machete and knife.

"Looks like ya can do it yourself, Tris," Merle smirked, patting her on the back.

"Now can I help clear out shit? Or am I still just a tiny princess?" She cocked an eyebrow, sliding the knife into her thigh holster and dropped the machete into the back of the truck, along with the bag.

"Shit, girlie. You can help out as much as you want," Merle promised, while Daryl moved to close up the map and put it away in the truck.

"Atlanta still the go-to?" Tristan asked, looking between the brothers as she pulled her brunette hair into a tight ponytail.

Daryl grunted with a nod, as he threw his crossbow into the back of the truck and climbed into the drivers side. Tristan sent a look to Merle, who was sitting on his bike before moving to get into the truck.

It wasn't till they were driving down a back-road that Daryl finally spoke to Tristan, and it was her turn to grunt in response. Except she was just doing it to annoy him, and wind him up.

"Sorry ya had to kill one," he muttered, glancing at her as he drove. She grunted, looking out of the side window. "Didn't want ya to get hurt." Another grunt. "Care about ya, Tris. Ya like ma only friend now." A snort this time.

"Antony Small was not a friend, Daryl," she looked at him, chuckling softly. "I was always your only friend."

Daryl reached out to poke her stomach, causing her to squirm back up against the door, "Tony was a friend-"

"No," she laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed his hand. "Tony used you for your brother." A shrug followed her statement, and Daryl sent her a confused look. "Your brother sold the hard stuff, quite cheaply too, to his close friends. He thought if he got close to you, he could get close to Merle."

Daryl appeared to muse over this thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, "Doesn't change the fact that you had to take on a dead thing by ya self."

Tristan rolled her eyes, "Rather sooner than later."

"Rather never," Daryl curled his lip, shaking his head. "Lost ya innocence now."

"I've spent most of my time with you and Merle, I had no innocence, Dixon."

The younger Dixon snorted, and concentrated on the road once more.

* * *

It was getting dark, when they came across a camp near the highway to Atlanta. Merle threw up a signal as he pulled up to the camp, and Daryl parked up next to him.

"Get ya gun, and stay behind us," Daryl told her, before climbing out of the truck.

Tristan followed, and grabbed her gun from her bag before moving to stand behind the brothers. Merle had an assault rifle, and Daryl was armed with his trusty crossbow. Their presence had been noticed by a male with dark hair, and judging by the way he stood, he was law enforcement - of some sort.

"Who are ya and what do ya want?" the male asked, armed with a shotgun himself.

"Heading to Atlanta, wondering why you's are camping out here," Merle replied, attempting to look behind the guy at the camp.

"Atlanta fell," a female said, as she appeared beside the male with a young boy clinging to her leg.

Tristan's shoulders slumped, and she moved to stand slightly behind Daryl with her free hand gently resting on his back so he knew she was there.

"Ain't that a shame. You's know of any place to stay 'round here for the night?"

"No, sorry-"

"Shane, you can't be serious? It's dangerous out there, in the dark."

"We don't know these people."

"Strength in numbers," the female informed the male, Shane.

"Nah, man. We'll get out of your hair, it's fine," Daryl said, reaching out to grab Merle's arm and pull him back.

"You are free to stay if you wish, we have the room," the female spoke to the brothers.

"Merle-" Daryl began to speak, but was cut off by his older brother.

"We'd love ta. I'm Merle, this here is my li'l brother Daryl, and behind him is his gal Tristan."

Tristan went over to Merle, hitting him on the shoulder and sent him a glare. Since they had been introduced, Merle had always called her Daryl's girl. And she knew it was just to wind her up though, but she loved the opportunity to hit him.

"I'm Lori, this is my son Carl, and our friend Shane." The female introduced, smiling softly at the antics of Merle and Tristan.

"How many people are here?" Tristan asked curiously, her soft green eyes meeting Lori's.

"Quite a few. People are coming in from all over the state, see us camping out here, like you guys did and they decide to ask why. Once they hear that Atlanta has fallen, they usually stick around for the night and then never leave."

"How many young'uns?" Merle asked, his eyes trained on the young boy wrapped around Lori's leg. Carl.

"There's a fair few," Shane replied, taking a protective stance in front of Lori. "Will that be a problem?"

"Nah, no problem," Daryl grunted, before going back to his truck and grabbing the bags. Tristan followed him, taking the strap of her bag as she looked at the younger Dixon. "What do ya think?"

"Think it might be good for short-term," Tristan nodded, chewing her lip as her gaze moved to Merle, who was chatting to someone else in the group. Two blonde girls. "But I think Merle may end up screwing us over here."

"Got that right," Daryl huffed, pulling the bag over his shoulder and grabbing another. "You're the friendly one, you go meet everyone tomorrow. Get ya views. Report back. I'll go hunting for some grub, doubt they want to share."

Tristan nodded, shouldering her bag and sliding her gun into it's holster as she watched Merle with the two blondes. The older one pulled an ugly face, before pulling the younger one away from him as they headed to a tent.

"Making friends, Merle?" Tristan called out, laughing softly.

"Always, Tris," he replied as he made his way over and grabbed the large tent. "Guessing you's will want to share a bed-" He was cut off by Tristan beating his arm with a scowl on her face. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Calm down, girlie."


	3. Chapter 3: Big Brother Merle

Tristan awoke the next morning, to rustling from the left side of her bed. She immediately sat up, holding her knife to the throat of-

"Daryl?" She questioned, her eyebrows furrowed, as she looked at the man, with the look of a deer caught in headlights.

"Did I scare ya?" He asked, pulling backwards so the blade wasn't near him anymore.

"Nah, just wasn't expecting it," she brushed off, tucking the knife beneath her pillow. She looked behind her, to see Merle's bed empty. "He's already out?"

Daryl shrugged, looking at the bed too before moving to his eyes to lay on her. She then turned to look at him, and he diverted his gaze to his crossbow that he had decided to clean.

"What time is it, roughly?" She asked, pulling on her plaid shirt, and tugging on her boots.

"About eight, maybe nine," Daryl replied, gruffly.

"What's up with you this morning?" Tristan asked, frowning as she looked at her friend, who seemed to be ignoring her as best as he could.

"Just sumthin' Merle said."

"Well, whatever it was, ignore him. He's not worth it," Tristan grinned, standing up and pressing a kiss to the top of his head before making her way outside.

The brunette stretched out her limbs, letting out a soft groan and smiled happily as she looked around the camp. A young Asian male, around the age of 20, was making his way towards her.

"Uh, hi," he greeted, a small blush rising to his cheeks. "I'm Glenn."

"Well, hello, Glenn," she beamed, her hands resting on her hips. "I'm Tristan. Lovely to meet you."

"Shane sorta wanted me to come and find out if you are okay? Settling in and stuff," he smiled sheepishly, lifting up his cap and running his hands through his hair nervously.

"We've settled in just fine, except I have no idea where-"

"Aw, c'mon, sugartits. Ya know ya want ta go," Merle's voice sounded in her ears, and she pointed off in the direction he was in before going over.

"Never in your wildest dreams," the blonde from last night replied, pulling a face.

"Playing nice, Merle?" Tristan asked, her eyebrows raised as she looked at the older Dixon.

"Aw, ya know me, Tris. Nicest guy 'round."

"Yeah, I do know you. Now, get out of here. Leave the ladies alone, and stop pissing off Daryl, alright? Sick of you guys already," she laughed, pushing Merle away. "You two argue more than a pair of pussies."

Merle howled, gripping his chest as if someone had stabbed him in the heart, "Oh, ya words, they wound me."

Tristan laughed, as he made his way over the tent once more as Daryl exited from inside, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. Tristan's eyes were trained on him, as he jerked his head to the trees behind him. She held up two fingers, and he nodded in reply, just as she turned to the blonde that Merle had been winding up.

"Sorry 'bout him," Tristan apologized. "I'm Tristan."

"Andrea, and it's fine. Just keep him on a tighter leash, if you are gonna be fucking them both."

With that, Andrea stormed away, and Tristan was left to stand there, confused as she thought over what Andrea had said. Daryl's telltale whistle pulled her from her thoughts, and she made her way over to him.

"What was that 'bout?" He asked her as she approached, holding out her machete for her to take.

"Apparently they all think I'm sleeping with you and Merle," Tristan rolled her eyes, wrapping her hand around the handle of her machete. "But first off, ew. Merle isn't my type, at all. And second of all, what's it to do with them anyway."

Daryl shrugged, jerking his head to the trees again and she nodded, and together they made their way to the treeline.

* * *

They had been with the group outside of Atlanta for a week now, and between Daryl and Tristan, they had managed to relocate them to a Quarry not far from where they were originally based. Because, as Tristan pointed out, other groups of survivors and large groups of dead could stumble across them easily. So currently, the large group of survivors were settling themselves in on the cliffside, looking over the Quarry. Tristan, however, was sat on the rocky bed beside the Quarry, with her feet resting in the water.

"Careful, princess. We 'ave ta drink dat water," Merle's voice washed over her, and she broke out into a grin as she turned to look at him.

"Heard you are going into the city." Her eyebrow raised into an arch, as she awaited for his confirmation at the rumor she had heard.

"I am, princess. Want me ta get ya anythin'?"

"How about, come back alive? Andrea isn't exactly impressed that you are going," Tristan informed her friend, as she tugged her knees to her chest.

"Tough shit, one of us has ta go, and Darlina wouldn't. And he wouldn't let ya either."

"Just ignore her, please?" Her hands came together in a praying motion, as she pouted up at him. "I really want you to come back."

"Ya, whatever," Merle rolled his eyes, as he crouched down to her level. "Stay around the women, a'right? Don't trust these little boys, and Darlina plans to go out on a long hunt."

"I could just go with him?" Tristan suggested, with a shrug of her shoulders. She wasn't against hunting, it was more she got bored easily. Especially seeing as she couldn't use her preferred weapon of choice. Her rifle.

Merle mused over the thought, before giving her a shrug in reply. He ruffled her hair, with a toothy grin before making his way back up to the cliff side.

* * *

Tristan was perched on the trucks tailgate as she watched the brothers talk quietly just a few feet in front of her. Daryl nodded his head, raising it to look at Merle, as the elder one reached over and squeezed his shoulder with a grin on his lips.

"An' take good care of our Tris," she heard Merle say, and a smile spread across her lips.

"Don't need ta remind me, Merle," he mumbled, shaking his head as he glanced at the mentioned female.

"Reckon I'll be the one looking after him!" Tristan grinned, gently nudging Daryl with her foot.

"Be careful," Merle said to her, stepping closer as he dropped his voice and moved to cup her face between his hands.

"Always," she whispered, nodding her head with a smile. "Behave yourself."

"Always," he replied, giving her a toothy grin and she slapped his arm playfully.

She climbed off the tailgate and followed the brothers over to the group that were leaving for Atlanta, Merle nodded his head at the pair of them before walking off with the rest of the group. Tristan let out a shaky sigh, her fingers wrapping around Daryl's as she watched the man she saw as an older brother walk away from them.

"C'mon, let's go back to the tent," Daryl mumbled softly in her ear as he pulled her closer, walking over to the tent.

Her head nodded slowly as she buried it in his chest, her fingers curling into the back of his vest as she walked with him. The tears started falling as soon as they were away from sight of the group and in the comforts of their tent. Daryl squeezed her arm gently as he sat beside her on her bed, trying to comfort her as best as he could.

"He'll come back, Tris, ya know him," Daryl muttered into her hair. "It's tha' others ya should be worried about."

"I am," she admitted, wiping away her tears as she breathed out slowly. "If they don't come back, they'll blame it on Merle," she told him, biting down on her lower lip. "On us."

"We'll find a new camp if that happens," he assured her, nodding his head as he held her close. "But Merle is coming back, he enjoys annoying me too much."

Tristan let out a soft laugh at that, nodding her head in agreement as she looked up at the younger Dixon.

"Now, c'mon. I wanna go hun'ing."


	4. Chapter 4: Anger

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden bright light in front of her. She knew they were getting closer to the Quarry, but as she entered the clearing, she realised she didn't know how close.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl exclaimed as he stepped over to their hunt, a deer they had been tracking since the previous morning. "That's my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-baring, motherless poxy bastard!" He began to kick at the dead who had found their deer before them and had made a meal out it.

"Calm down son, that's not helping," Dale piped up, causing Tristan to roll her eyes as she stepped further into the clearing and looked around.

"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond?" Daryl was clearly worked up, he always hated losing a kill. Tristan stepped over, pushing herself between the younger Dixon and the elderly man. Daryl stepped away, moving over to the deer and retrieving his arrows. "Been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook up some venison. Do you think we could cut around this chewed up part here?"

"I would not risk that," Shane told him, holding his shotgun behind his neck as he shook his head.

"That's a damn shame," Tristan muttered, moving over to the deer with a heavy sigh.

"Well, I got some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do," Daryl said, looking around at the men that surrounded them. The deceased's head reanimated from the ground, it's mouth snapping open and closed as it tried to find a meal.

"C'mon people, what the hell?" Daryl scolded, taking aim at the head and shooting a bolt into the eye, killing it for the final time before yanking it free. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?"

He started stalking back to camp, Tristan following closely behind him as she adjusted her string of squirrel over her shoulder.

"Merle!" Daryl called out, walking through the camp and avoiding the obstacles that were placed. "Merle!"

"C'mon Merle! We're having squirrel for dinner!" Tristan called out, a small grin on her lips as she followed the younger Dixon.

"Get your ugly ass out here," Daryl continued, setting down his crossbow as he moved to pull the squirrel string over his head.

"Daryl, Tristan. Just slow up a bit, I need to talk to you," Shane said from behind them, causing them to both turn around as Tristan's fingers slowly wrapped around the knife on her hip.

"About what?" Daryl asked, the confusion in his voice as he glanced over at the tent.

"About Merle."

Those words caused Tristan's heart to stop, her fingers already tightening on her knife as she looked over at the darker haired male.

"There was a... there was a problem in Atlanta," Shane attempted to explain.

Both Daryl and Tristan took a moment to look around, seeing that everyone else from the Atlanta group had returned. Except for Merle.

"He dead?" Daryl asked, cutting straight to the chase as he started to pace around the area.

"We're not sure."

"Well, either he is or he ain't!"

"Look, there's no easy way to say this, so, I'll just say it," a new, unrecognisable voice piped up. Tristan took a moment to glare at the newcomer.

"Who are you?" Tristan snapped, she was getting worked up - which wasn't for the best because so was Daryl, and they both tended to have a temper on them.

"Rick Grimes," the newcomer said softly, his eyes looking over at the brunette female who had been following the younger Dixon around since they returned to camp.

"Rick Grimes," Daryl repeated, his voice mocking as he stepped closer to the newcomer - Rick. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so, I handcuffed him on the roof, hooked to a piece of metal. He's still there."

Tristan tightened her jaw as she heard the story, her eyes fixating on the dirt at her feet as Daryl turned away.

"Hold on, let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?" Daryl turned back to Rick, now yelling at him as his anger began to get the better of him.

"Yeah," Rick answered shortly, his eyes drifting for a moment before refocusing on Daryl's body.

Daryl grunted, throwing his squirrel string and lunging at the newcomer. Shane blocked his lunge, pushing him to the ground. At the same time, Tristan and Daryl unsheathed their knifes and went to attack Rick. Rick blocked Daryl's movements and Jim caught Tristan, locking her arms from movement and holding her against his body. She struggled against hold, her eyes watching Daryl. Shane caught Daryl in a headlock, slowly bringing him to the ground in an attempt to calm him down.

"Daryl!" Tristan called out, still fighting against Jim's hold as she tried to get to her friend.

"I'd like to have a calm conversation on this topic," Rick said to Daryl, almost mockingly as he knelt down to the floor. "Do you think we could manage that?" His eyes moved over to Tristan who was still fighting the hold on her. "Do you think we could manage that?" He repeated, this time aimed at her.

Both of them stopped fighting the holds on them, and slowly they were released to the floor. Tristan crawled over to Daryl, his arms instinctively wrapped around her.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick told them, kneeling down beside them as Daryl checked on Tristan and made sure she was okay. "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," another voice piped up, their eyes now snapped over to them. T-Dog. "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?"

"Well, I dropped it down a drain," T-Dog explained, and Tristan scoffed, shaking her head as she curled her fingers around Daryl's neck and in his hair.

Slowly the pair got to their feet, Daryl's eyes skimming over Tristan one final time to make sure she was okay before stepped towards T-Dog.

"If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't," Daryl snapped at the darker skinned male.

"Maybe this will. Look, I chained the door to the roof, so the geeks couldn't get at him, with a padlock."

"It's gotta count for something," Rick told them, causing the female to turn and glare at the newcomer, spitting at his shoes.

"Hell with all y'all!" Daryl said, getting emotional as his anger faded. "Just tell me where he is, so's we can go get him."

"He'll show you," a female voice was now speaking, causing the friends to turn to look at her. Lori's eyes were trained on the newcomer, as they shared a look. "Isn't that right?"

"I'm going back," Rick agreed, looking at the pair.

Daryl had decided he'd had enough, moving around the male to retrieve his crossbow before walking over to Tristan and taking her hand, yanking her back over to the tent.

* * *

Tristan had changed her clothes and was packing up a bag of things Merle would need when they got to him. Food, water, even a little bit of a pick-me-up for one of his highs. When she was happy with what she had packed, she stepped out of her tent to be greeted by Lori.

"Don't you dare think about telling Rick about what you saw," the older woman told the younger, in an attempt to intimidate her.

"And what am I not telling Rick, Lori?" She asked softly, an eyebrow raised as she tugged her backpack over her shoulder.

"You know what," Lori replied, her eyes narrowing as her hands sat on her hips.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have been hooking up with your husbands best friend," Tristan told her, nodding her head as she moved to step around the older woman. A hand wrapped around her upper arm, causing her to turn and glare at the woman. "Sorry, did I say something that offended you, slut?"

"Everythin' okay here?" Daryl's voice sounded in Tristan's ears as she turned to look at him, a smile on her lips as she tugged her arm free from the other woman's grasp and walked over to her friend.

"Everything's perfect. Are we ready to go? I need to have a serious word with your brother," she told him, her arm wrapping around his as they walked over to the box truck.

"Almost, they're still packing," he muttered to her as he adjusted his hold on his crossbow as his eyes fell on the group. "What was that back there?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, D," she told him softly, with a smile as she squeezed his arm and climbed into the box truck.

* * *

Finally they had reached Atlanta, Tristan's bum was beginning to go numb from where she was sat in the box truck next to Daryl, tucked into his side with his arm around her shoulders as he glared at T-Dog who was sitting opposite them. The female wasn't paying attention to any conversation that was happening around her, just focusing on what she would do when they found Merle. He was in huge trouble for breaking his promise to her, but she also planned to give him a huge hug for the pain he must have gone through in the time he had been handcuffed to the roof in the baking Atlanta sun.

"C'mon, Tris," Daryl muttered to her, gently tugging her up by her hands and moving to jump out of the box truck.

The brunette followed him out, jogging along the train tracks with the rest of the group. Her eyes were trained on Daryl if she wasn't looking around them for any undead, she refused to look at the traitors that had left her friend behind, knowing that it would only work her up.

They reached the department store, Daryl took out the lone walker that was inside before they raced to the roof of the store. T-Dog cut the chain and they ran out onto the roof, Tristan gasping at the sight they found as Daryl began to cry. There, in a pool of blood, was a hand. Merle's hand.

"No, No! No, no, no," Daryl sobbed, shaking his head as he dropped his crossbow, running his hands against his face.

Tristan's step faltered as she looked at the sight that welcomed them, her hand raising to cover her mouth. She knew the man was insane, but she thought he knew that they would come for him. Just like they had her.

"Is Merle okay?" Tristan breathed out, shaking her head as she stared at the hand.

Daryl's mood suddenly changed, and he picked up his crossbow once more before aiming it at T-Dog's head. Rick was quick on the reflex and his python was now aiming at Daryl's.

"No, don't you dare!" Tristan shouted, moving over to them.

"I won't hesitate, I don't care if every walker in the city hears it," Rick told Daryl, causing the younger Dixon to rethink as he slowly lowered his crossbow.

Daryl stepped back slowly, his eyes shifting over to Tristan and he instantly saw how this was affecting her.

"You got a do-rag or something?" He gestured to T-Dog, who handed him a cloth before the young Dixon moved over to the already decaying hand of his brother and wrapped it up. "I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain't that a bitch," he muttered as he moved over to Glenn, tucking the hand in the Asian's backpack.

"He must have used a tourniquet, maybe his belt... there would be a lot more blood if he didn't," Tristan said softly as she inspected the blood pool.

Daryl had wandered a little further up, noticing a blood trail as he glanced at the ground to where they had found Merle's hand. Tristan notices where he is heading, standing up and following him over as T-Dog went to go retrieve the tools they had promised Dale.

"Merle? You in here?" Daryl called out as they found another stairway, Tristan following him in with Glenn and Rick just behind them.

"C'mon, Merle!" Tristan yelled out, following behind Daryl down the staircase.

They came across an office, and Daryl shot a bolt into the lone walker in there. The rest of them checked that they were clear as Tristan looked around for any sign of Merle.

"Had enough in him to take out these two sumbitches. One handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails," Daryl said, as they found two dead walkers on the ground.

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is," Rick told him, which caused Tristan to roll her eyes.

"Merle isn't just anyone. But I bet you just said that to make yourself feel better," Tristan muttered, gesturing with her knife to the officer's wounded side.

The group of five continued on their search for Merle, either Daryl or Tristan yelling out his name as they went further into the office block.

"We're not alone here, remember?" Rick reminded the pair of them, which caused Daryl to click his tongue and Tristan to scoff.

"Screw that! Ya said so yaself, he could be bleeding out," Daryl told Rick, shaking his head.

The group found a kitchen, where a stove was lit and a belt was led on the counter beside it. Merle's belt.

"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn asked, as Rick inspected something by the stove while Tristan and Daryl looked around for any sign of the elder Dixon.

"Skin, he cauterized the stump," Rick answered, glancing at the young Asian.

"Told ya he was tough, nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

"Don't take that on faith. He's lost a lot of blood," Rick reminded him.

"Only Dixon's can kill Dixon's. And Merle ain't dying now, not because of you," Tristan snapped, a glare being directed to Rick as she watched him from the other side of the room.

"Didn't stop 'im fro busting out of this death trap," Daryl piped up from where he was, by a window. Tristan walked over, glancing out onto the street below as she let out a low sigh.

"He left the building? Why would he do that?" Glenn asked, a concerned yet panicked look on his face.

"Why wouldn't he?" Daryl asked, his eyebrow raised as he shared a look with Tristan.

"He's doing what he does best, surviving. Against the odds, on his own," she mumbled, nodding her head as she glanced back at the group.

"You call that surviving? Just wandering out on the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?" T-Dog asked.

"No worse than being handcuffed and left ta rot by you sorry pricks," Daryl snapped at the darker skinned male. "Ya couldn't kill him, ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."

"What about a thousand dead dumb bastards? Different story?"

Tristan squared her jaw, stepping over to Rick and getting level with him. He copied, his hand resting on his colt python while she gripped her knife.

"We wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for you," she muttered to him, her teeth grinding into each other.

"That may be true-"

"No, it is true. They would have got home safe. All of them. You ruined that. This is on you. If Merle dies, that's on you. And I'll make you suffer, the way you made us suffer."

"C'mon Tris, forget these bastards. We're gonna go get him," Daryl said, his voice soft as his hand cupped around her shoulder while pulling her away from the officer.

"Daryl, Tristan. Wait."

Rick's hand was curled into Daryl's vest as he tried to keep them still.

"Getcha hands off me! And don't even think about touching her. Ya can't stop us."

"I don't blame you, he's family. I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel, he can't get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around but only if we keep a level head," Rick said, directly his last sentence to the female brunette who was currently cuddled into Daryl's side.

"We can do that," Daryl muttered sharply, his fingers rubbing Tristan's shoulder.

"Only if we get those guns first," T-Dog piped in, stepping over with a slight shrug. "I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"

Tristan rolled her eyes before shrugging her shoulders, and together they started to work out a plan for them to safely get the guns.


End file.
